


just stay a little longer and swim

by starraya



Category: Peaky Blinders
Genre: F/F, Polly is bisexual, give me some fanfic prompts please, she meets a French lesbian, things develop, where are the other lesbians in this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-09-27 09:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starraya/pseuds/starraya
Summary: A month before Wall Street crashes, Polly Gray finds herself in a lesbian bar in Paris.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I TAKE PROMPTS FOR POLLY FANFICTION. PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU HAVE AN IDEA.
> 
> I do not, however, write Polly and Gold.

They meet in Paris at a roulette table. Polly is wearing earrings more expensive than The Garrison. She is sipping her third, possibly fourth, martini. Renée de La Fontaine appears beside her with a glass in each hand and offers her one. Polly finishes her glass off, takes a full glass from Renée and hands her the empty one. Many men – and women – have brought her drinks this past fortnight. Renée is the only woman who has brought her a drink, however, dressed in a full tuxedo.

“1929,” Renée says. “The year of modernity. Where anything is possible. Place it all on 29. Trust me.”

Polly looks Renée up and down: feet firmly planted apart, hands in pockets, smile on her lips. Polly slides a stack of chips onto the number 30. “I always keep one eye on the future,” she says.

Renée goes to speak again, but Polly brings a finger to her own lips. “Hush.”

The wheel spins. The ball lands on thirty. Polly won’t be able to carry her winnings. She orders an attendant to collect up for her and deliver them to her hotel room above the casino. Polly swings her fur coat around her shoulders.

“Leaving already?” Renée says.

“I’m bored.”

“This is Paris, Mrs Gray. If you know the right places, women like us need never be bored again.”

-

“Well, this is a breath of fresh air,” Polly says when she steps inside the club and realises where Renée has brought her. Polly’s heard rumours of these places, but she never quite believed the rumours. They sounded too fantastical. Another socialist dream. Polly surveys the women around her, smoking, drinking, dancing. They’re all smiling. Having a good time. “I think I might stay here forever.”

Renée laughs.

“I mean it,” Polly says. “In my line of work, I am surrounded by men and their cocks and their idiocy never ceases to amaze me.”

“Let me show you my favourite spot.” Renée places her hand on Polly’s back and guides her to a corner where a group of women are already sitting. When they see Renée, they vacate the corner immediately. But Polly doesn’t see fear in their eyes. Polly wonders how many of the women have, one time or another, been seduced by Renée.

“Most English women I bring here are normally shocked,” Renée says, opening a case of cigarettes and offering one to Polly.

“I’m not most English women.” Polly puts the cigarette to her lips.

“You mean nothing can shock you?” Renée leans over the table with and lights Polly’s cigarette.

“What I don’t get, though, is that if you all don’t give a damn about men, why do half of the women here dress like one?”

“I don’t dress like a man.” Renée lights herself a cigarette and exhales, deeply. “I dress like me. Men simply have the more comfortable clothes. You should try it one day. You think your diamond earrings give you power and freedom? I burnt my corset at the age of twenty in the gardens of my parent’s manor. I’ve felt like a God ever since.”

“Was your mother watching?”

“She was cheering.”

“And your father? His friends? Your friends? What did they think?”

“I can fly a plane, you know. I can hunt, I can shoot, I can ride. Better than any man. But I’m best at flying. I’ve always been flying my entire life, even before the Wright brothers. Flying above boring, pointless tradition.”

“Flying on the wings of your family’s name and their money.”

“Like I said, women like us, Mrs Gray. We can do whatever we want.”

Polly’s eyes flicker to a couple of women kissing on the dancefloor. “Because the law doesn’t mention it. The bible doesn’t mention it.”

“Because men don’t know how to be careful, but women do.”

“What about fucking?” Polly stubs out her cigarette. She stands up and puts her fur coat on, again. “Can you do that better than a man?”

-

“Fuck it,” Polly sighs. She bangs her head against the door of her hotel room. “I’ve lost the key.” Renée takes the opportunity to sweep up Polly’s hair and kiss the skin below her hairline.

“My apartment’s just across the road,” Renée says.

“I can ask key for another at reception,” Polly says.

“I’ll ask for them to make sure your room’s secure on our way out.”

“I will ask for – Actually, I don’t think I can do anything while you’re doing that.”

Renée whispers French in Polly’s ear. “Did I tell you I have an outdoor pool?”

-

Polly spends the rest of the night with Renée and the next day and the next night. They are kissing under the stars in the swimming pool. Polly’s legs are wrapped around Renée’s waist.

They are going to go on a trip together.

“We can do it all,” Renée promises her. “Marseilles. Lyon. Monte Carlo.”

“We can, but first I want to see you fly.”

Polly knows Renée stole her hotel key. She knows, as well, that Renée slipped it back in the pocket of Polly’s fur coat sometime when Polly was sleeping. 

Polly is planning vengeance. Polly is planning on stealing Renée’s heart. 

-

Wall Street crashes. Polly is oblivious. She is in a plush hotel suite in Monaco and Renée is speaking French between her thighs. I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re saying, Polly used tell Renée, but don’t stop. A month of Renée’s company and Polly has started to pick up some French.

Renée rises to her feet and Polly slips her cigarette between Renée’s lips.

“My pilot,” she says, in French, her hand caressing Renée’s face. A pilot who can fly her to another world entirely with a kiss.

“On the bed,” Polly tells her. “I’m not as young as you.”

Before Polly can join Renée on the bed, the phone rings.

-

Polly knows as soon as she is back in Birmingham that she will have to ignore Renée’s phone calls. Try and forget about her. She must focus on cleaning up another mess she didn’t create. 

But she keeps the grey suit and black hat Renée brought her in Monte Carlo. She likes it better than her diamond earrings. 


	2. this edit took far too long to make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to win an award for this edit anytime soon, but my God did I try.


	3. Polly invites Renée to Swan Lake and Renée turns into a u-haul lesbian

“No,” Polly says.

“No?” Thomas says.

Polly takes a drag of her cigarette. The last one she will take. She knows she will not have time to smoke if she wants to win this argument and she will win this argument.

“Thomas, I appreciate that you probably haven’t heard the word ‘no’ in a very long time, but let me elaborate, I am not a chess piece for you to manoeuvre when and how you wish.”

“If Gold doesn’t settle, he will-”

“Of course,” Polly laughs. “Women are always responsible for the actions of men.”

“Michael-”

“My son will be offered another chance by this company to redeem himself.” Polly stubs out her cigarette in an ashtray on Thomas’s desk.

“You’ll break his heart. He’s just lost his son and now you.”

Polly reaches for her coat on the back of her chair and stands up. “I sympathise with him on that score. It’s why I visited him in the hospital. But you’ll going to have to burn his invitation. I’ve already invited someone.”

-

Renée is fetching Polly another drink. A lot of people are staring at her. At her short hair and her suit. Tommy stands beside Polly. He doesn’t need this woman here, attracting attention. He already has too much to think about tonight.

“So, she’s a woman,” he says to his aunt.

“Excellent observation,” Polly says. 

“She lost four brothers in the war. Three at the Somme. One missing in action. She collects pearl jewellery. Apparently, she has the second biggest collection in Europe. She thinks they’re lucky charms. She withdrew most of her money from Wall Street before the crash, so maybe they are. Oh, and rumour has it, she’s fucked Marlene Dietrich. As well as half the women in Paris.”

“Excellent research.” Tonight, Polly has vowed not to let anything Tommy says to her affect her. “You missed something important out though. She’s also a fabulous violin player.”

“And while you are on your holiday to France, away from the land of men, seven tonnes of opium is on its way to Birmingham. Opium, they say, brings peace to the minds of troubled men, but first there must be peace amongst men.”

“Tell me. I’ve always wondered. Do you rehearse these clever speeches in your head?”

Tommy curls his fist. Polly is drunk and in one of her moods. He calls this mood: ‘I couldn’t give a single fuck.’ At the other end of the room, he sees Renée returning with Polly’s drink. He clears his throat, keeps his voice steady and low. “I have told Aberama Gold that you would like the proposal somewhere out in the open, in the woods. Just the two of you. He’s going to wait a couple of weeks to make sure it’s perfect.”

Polly swallows back anger. She will not rise to her nephew. She will not let his words touch her. She is untouchable. “I’m a half-dead gypsy queen,” she says. “I don’t take orders from anyone.”

She leaves Tommy to join Renée’s company.

-

Thomas waits until Polly is busy talking to Lizzie. He approaches Renée. “Are you going to marry her?”

Renée’s takes her cigarette from her lips. So, this is the famous Tommy Shelby. She perfects a look of innocence, pretends as if Tommy’s abrupt question has really knocked her for six, like he intended. “Marry who?”

“Do you plan to take my aunt’s hand in marriage? Because, you should know that Polly is very close to God. She’d want to get married in a church. Only I hear the church isn’t very fond of your sort.”

“My sort?” Renée can’t help but laugh. This man truly does think he is God. “Tommy Shelby, OBE. Makes no secret of his gypsy heritage. Fights for the working man. And is about to have a black niece. But wants to marry off his aunt like it’s the 18th century, because you don’t believe she’s her own autonomous person. You’re only socialist when it suits you. You’re the worst kind of politician, because, deep down, you don’t believe in anything. No principles. No morals.”

“Are you finished?” Tommy draws out his pocket watch.

“No,” Renée continues. “Tommy Shelby. No principles. No morals. No clue about who is aunt really is. What she really wants. They are other ways to get married aside from the church.”

“Very well.” He really doesn’t have time for this woman. “Enjoy the evening, Mademoiselle Renée de La Fontaine.”

“Oh, I will.”

-

“I – I just don’t get it, Tommy.” Arthur says.

“Polly met her in Paris.” Tommy says. “The woman likes to wear suits. Polly has also decided, recently, that she sometimes likes to wear suits too.”

“Yes, but how do they - what the fuck do they do together?”

-

As Polly sits watching Swan Lake, something falls in her lap. She turns and sees Renée. Follows her outside.

“I wondered where you’d got to,” Polly says.

“Ballet bores me,” Renée says, taking Polly’s hand in her own and leading her away from the tent.

“Does everything here bore you?”

“You don’t.”

Polly smiles. “No one’s ever called a Shelby party boring before, but I suppose you’re not everyone.”

“I brought you something.” Renée turns to a branch. On it, hangs a delicate silver necklace with a pearl in the middle. She carefully unhooks the necklace from the branch. “Let me,” she says and Polly turns around and lifts up her hair so Renée can fasten it around her neck. Renée finishes by softly stroking Polly’s hair back in place. She presses a kiss to Polly’s shoulder blade.

“I don’t do engagement rings,” she tells Polly, breath hot against her skin. “Or weddings.”

Polly turns around. Her heart is beating fast. “However?”

“I made all those phone calls and wrote all those letters because I am falling, deeply, in love with you.” Polly smile widens. “And I know you can’t come back to Paris with me. Your Queendom is here and you need to rule it. But I want you to know that, for however long, for whatever you want, I am here.”

Polly doesn’t know what to say. She breathes in the sweet, earthy smell of the night air. She pulls Renée into a deep, long kiss. In the distance, the engine of a car roars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the night fits canon. Polly does shoot Linda. (Linda you will be dearly missed as a woman who took no shit from the Shelby men). Whatever shock and chaos comes from that event, means Polly is forced to put the business before her heart to help stabilise the family and she agrees to marry Gold. 
> 
> Renée may be back, though.

**Author's Note:**

> I used to wrote a lot of Polly fic in 2016 bc I loved her S3 arc, but I never posted it on A03. I used to share them with a beta I met on Tumblr. Because yes the fandom was me and one other person! If you by any chance read this fic, hi!!! 
> 
> So yeah, if you like it, if there’s actually other lesbians or bi women who watch Peaky Blinders for Helen McCrory’s cheekbones, tell me. I am happy to write more. I just don’t know if there is an audience. I love comments ;)
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT USE THE Q SLUR WHEN WRITING ABOUT THIS STORY


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